La Dolce Vita
by WolvesCanEatMe
Summary: Heidi brings home the bacon -so to speak- for the rest of the Volturi, and who doesn't like a nice cocktail before dinner? Some of us like to play with our food, so there is some brief fem-slash. You've been warned. *Winner of an 2011 Emerging Swan Award*


La Dolce Vita ("The Sweet Life")

The Italian club pulsed to the beat of the music being pumped through the loud speakers. As I watched, all but unnoticed in the shadows, I could hear the throbbing rhythm echo in the chests of the drunken humans that crowded the bar. The few that saw me were entranced; I had them wrapped around my little finger from their first glance in my direction, just like always. Ignoring the men that were vying for my attention, I scanned the crowd for the perfect female specimen. I wasn't in the mood for male company tonight.

It didn't take me long to locate her; she was everything I wanted and more. Natural blondes were so difficult to find these days. Her outfit was attractive even if it was a bit out of style, and the red lace of her bra just barely peeking out from her shirt was tastefully alluring. I licked my lips in anticipation.

The drunk male that just turned her down was giving me a wonderful opportunity—he had no idea his dismissal had just sentenced her to death. After he abandoned her, the blonde stood on one side of the dance floor—visibly dejected and utterly alone. Perfect.

Several empty drink glasses on the table next to her were tinged with her lipstick giving me a small glimpse into how her evening had gone so far. When she finally met my eyes, I smiled at her, which earned me a hopeful grin in return. Glancing around one last time to make sure we didn't have an audience, I motioned for her to come over to me and she didn't hesitate. They never did.

As she approached, I slowly took in her appearance from her head to the high heeled shoes she wore, receiving a stunning crimson blush. Her slight form barely filled her clothes, but her breasts had retained some of their shape from her more self-respecting days. She wasn't Italian; the way she moved and held herself wasn't even European – possibly American or Canadian. Her posture was terrible, and her steps were loud and heavy.

She had been really pretty once, before she had been used—used more than once from what little insight I allowed myself, and today would be no different for her. I was exactly the same as the past men in her life, but she wouldn't know that until it was too late.

Even the designer outfit she wore couldn't hide her old wounds. She had probably followed the best business proposition of her life to Europe. I'm sure she was promised a future, money, and happiness, but then she was dumped and left stranded; they always were. He had been some uppity executive, who didn't like to be lonely and judging by her clothes had liked to give his whores expensive gifts. She was the realistic outcome of the _Pretty Woman_ story, where the hooker didn't live happily-ever-after with Prince Charming.

Everything about her matched my back-story for her. Her hair was styled but slightly oily, and her makeup needed to be touched up. She was thin—from using hard drugs, not working out. She wasn't taking care of herself, a part of her wanted to die, and a part of her had died long ago.

This was all too easy. Smiling again at her, I held out my hand and she took it gently in her warm one.

"I'm Heidi," I said in English, betting on my intuition.

Her voice was quiet, but husky. "I'm Jen. Do you want to go outside with me?" She was American; her accent gave her away.

I inclined my head in a short nod and she kept my hand in hers as we walked out of the front of the club. Many eyes watched us leave, but no one followed us.

Her pace didn't slow as she led me further down the unlit alleyway, stopping only after we turned another corner; she allowed her weak human eyes to trail longingly down my body. This wasn't her first time going into a dark alley with a stranger.

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen, Heidi." She leaned closer to me and placed a lingering kiss on my lips. I didn't kiss her back, but she didn't notice. It didn't matter what I said or did at this point; it never did. The humans were drawn to me like the sirens of old. My very being called to them and they always responded.

She unbuttoned her blouse granting me access to her ample bosom. Gingerly, I leaned into her and inched her backward until her back hit the brick wall of the deserted alley. I dragged my index finger slowly up from her navel to the swell of her breasts, pausing to toy with her erect nipples through the lace fabric of her bra. The woman gave a whimpering moan, and her arousal assaulted my senses sending a brief haze of lust into my brain, but it was quickly dismissed—now wasn't the time.

My fingers moved upward, skimming her long blonde hair as it flowed over her bony shoulder. She sighed, leaning into my touch, and savoring the sensations I was making her body feel. It had been a long time since she had felt any pleasure. Her eyes were closed now; I wouldn't be forced to see the terror reflected in them as I ended her pathetic and miserable life.

As my cold lips moved against her throat, her body shuddered against mine. _Stupid girl_. If she had any idea…I didn't allow my thought process to continue. She has done nothing to deserve my pity and I had places to be.

Even as I permitted her to tangle her manicured nails in my own blonde hair, I felt nothing but the burning in my throat. Dragging my nose along her jugular gave me just a hint of her luscious fragrance; I couldn't wait any longer.

"Lovely," I whispered into her ear before continuing. "Thank for your precious gift; it won't be wasted."

Her fingers stopped their sensual movement in my hair as she tried to understand my sentiment, but her time was up.

Swirling my tongue under her ear elicited another moan from her and she barely struggled as my teeth sank into the tender flesh of her throat. It wasn't until she felt the intense burn that she screamed. Clamping my fingers over her mouth, I silenced her pitiful cries with the hand that wasn't keeping her flailing body pinned to the wall.

The amount of effort she exerted her struggles was surprising; I hadn't been expecting much from her. She clawed, kicked, and thrashed against me for several minutes as I slowly drained her, savoring her life's fluid. Several of her beautifully French manicured nails had snapped off in her vain attempts to escape, and they lay around us on the ground like some demented version of confetti.

Even as her strength ebbed, she still twitched, but her blood-deprived brain could no longer control her muscles. Then…she wasn't struggling any more. Her heart was on the verge of giving up, and she knew it. They always did. Even the most vital and alive human knows when it's over.

The cathedral's bell tower chimed midnight just as her heart beat its last. How quaint. I finished my meal and dropped her limp body unceremoniously to the ground at my feet. My tongue sought the dribble of blood that threatened to drip off my bottom lip and onto my silk blouse. We couldn't have that. There was something so satisfying and juvenile about licking your lips after a decent meal.

After reapplying my lipstick, I picked up her body and neatly threw it into the dumpster. One large douse of lighter fluid later and there was yet another dumpster fire waiting to be reported in the city of Rome. The thirteen minutes it would take the fire department to respond would be more than enough time to char all possible evidence of her unfortunate death.

Smiling to myself, I tossed my hair as I made my way out of the alley. I had a tour of Volterra to lead.


End file.
